A Backwoods Rivalry
by nayagasm
Summary: The annual camping trip is coming up and the Lopez-Pierces are ready to take down the Fabrays for another year. Can the Lopez-Pierce kids defend the title? Or will the Fabrays steal the win? Brittana vs Faberry in a Cheaper By The Dozen style faceoff.


Yay for the new story! I've been meaning to get this down for awhile, but I've been slacking a ton. But here it is! Hope you guys are alright with it.

Please review so I know whether or not I should keep up with this fic.

Thanks and enjoy!

- IA

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><p>It's been four years since the birth of Bryson Kale Lopez-Pierce and despite the smooth delivery of their third child; Brittany is still pretty strict about certain things.<p>

She still makes sure that her little girl, Caid, is only allowed one sweet in her lunch every morning for the safety of her teachers, she still refuses to give their eldest boy, Ethan, even a smidgen of root beer on any day other than a holiday because they really don't need a rerun of last year's Halloween party over at the Gordons' down the street (Patricia still flinches whenever Ethan so much as walks by her precious gardenias), and she still won't let Santana watch her soaps on Friday nights because that's family night and she's almost completely certain that family nights don't include one parent sobbing into a bottle of wine.

She's pretty uptight about these things, but she still shows her love in other ways.

She still makes sure the kids' medals and trophies are on a shelf on full display in the living room right beside the TV (the display case even has it's own golden light at the top that beams over the cheap, plastic trophies every time Santana feels like bragging to the neighborhood moms).

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><p>"This is Caid's blue ribbon – that means first place by the way. Best Christmas poem, grades one through five. She's in first grade. How old is Kinsley now, Victoria? Nine? That second place red looked great with her dress."<p>

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><p>She still makes sure the fridge magnets are completely aligned with the metal edges of the chilling machine and she still refuses to do the same for Ethan's orange crayon elephant drawing or Caid's finger painted butterfly. She won't move it at all to match up with the other occupants of the fridge. Every time Santana asks about it she swears up and down that doing so would take away from the specialness of it all if she does that, but Santana knows her wife and knows she just keeps it like that to draw attention to it – make it stand out as much as possible. Every time a visitor pops by, she pushes them into the kitchen chair right across from the metal box fridge, making absolutely sure that their guest can see that orange elephant with the "blurple" eyes smiling from the top right corner of the Lopez-Pierce family's refrigerator.<p>

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><p>Ethan smacked the crayon down on the yellow-orange play table with a loud thwack then hopped to his feet with a shout, "Mami, mami! Look he has blurple eyes!"<p>

Santana looked up startled from her laptop. She'd spent the last five awful hours scrolling through pages and pages of white backdrops and miniscule black font for any loopholes in her received contract. Rubbing her curled fingers into the corners of dark mocha eyes, she tried hard to focus her bleary vision on her chestnut-haired son. She grunted in confusion when bright white fuzz was all she could see instead of the dimpled cheeks of her son's tan complexion. The mother of three craned her head back a couple inches and kept veering back when orange lines to come into view. Eventually an indigo-eyed, orange elephant sat six inches away from her scrunched up brow.

"Hijo, I think that's indigo." Santana hefted the growing seven year old into her arms to sit perched on her knee. She smiled brightly when his nose scrunched up into little tiny creases in confusion, just like his mother. She pressed a firm, sweet kiss to the top of his scrunched up brow and let out a contented hum when it smoothened out instantly, just like her wife's has done for just about ever.

"No, mami! It's blurple! Blue and purple! It's a mashed potato name." Ethan gushed excitedly like he just won all the kisses and praise in the world from his moms.

"Little man, I think you mean a mash up name," Santana chuckled into his messy, brunette furls. "That elephant though? Awesome, it looks just like the one in your science book!"

Ethan's eyes lit up brighter than the high beams on his mommy's car. A loud, bubbly laugh spilled past his missing teeth and over his lips to meet his mami's eager ears.

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><p>Santana chortles a little when she remembers the look on the UPS guy's face from one end of the glass kitchen table. A nice shade of indigo, he'd said. Half a second later one Ethan Bradley came hurtling into kitchen to give the man an art lesson he'd never forget. Brittany had withheld sex for a whole two days when she hadn't stopped laughing at the poor guy.<p>

Point is, Brittany has her little things that she just can't let go for her family, but she has her big things too and Santana thanks every religious being out there that there's only a few. They're big things to her because they drive her up the wall when her family of five messes with them. They're things like cooking dinner as a family every Thursday night and always being honest to each other. As of now, the biggest issue to Brittany is keeping the shower curtains on the goddamn rack.

But that might have something to do with the way Bryson is wielding his big brother's three foot baseball bat with a blue, cow-patterned (Bryce just really wanted them and Santana couldn't say no to his kicked puppy face, okay? She's 100% Brittany taught him that after she ate the last shrimp in the fridge) shower curtain wrapped around it.

The youngest of the family is knee deep in water and hopping on alternating feet at the end of the shower tub, furthest from the faucet and clad in his swimmies just like his siblings. He's rattling the bat against the floor of the tub every now and then, swaying and jerking with it like he's in a storm.

Kincaid is hanging halfway off the side of the tub, squealing and kicking up her legs every time Bryson lets out a bellowing yell of, "Bandana ship! Bandana ship!" She joins in too, and soon the bathroom is full of yelling, screaming, and squealing from the two.

Ethan is in the back, turning the warm water faucet on with one hand and twisting a green Frisbee in his hands jerkily, "Bryce! It's _abandon_ ship! Not bandana!" Just then he gasps loudly and screams, bringing yells of panic from his brother and sister.

Caid flings herself off the faux boat's edge, bear crawling her way up to her older brother. "Captain! What's wrong?"

Ethan takes deep breaths to recover from his yelling match with the storm, "An enemy pirate ship! That'a way!" He points towards his mami, who's bent at the knees beside the tub and making wave crashing noises through her cupped palms.

Santana pauses momentarily when her kids interrupt her noise making with more startled gasps. She wonders if she should stop now and ask if that's her because ten minutes ago when the kids said they wanted to play pirates she'd assumed she would only be playing sound effects like usual, but it's a good day and they all look too excited for her to stop now.

"Aye! It is I, Captain Lopez of Lima Heights," She pauses with a grim expression and approaches the tub with all the swag of Captain Jack Sparrow, "And I'm here to steal your booty and your ship!" She lunges at Kincaid, picking the small girl up around her sides and heaving her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She can hear three sets of squeals and giggles over the roar of the shower head's spray and her own pirate impersonations.

"Is that my shower curtain?"

Santana pauses in her supposed shipnapping to make eye contact with Bryce and Ethan. Their eyes are anywhere but on hers and take to the bathroom walls and ceiling instead. She's alone on this one and she shouldn't really be surprised considering they always abandon deck whenever a certain someone swings by and spots their messes.

She doesn't bother to stop the onslaught of water from soaking through her clothes and hair and just turns back to face her wife with an apologetic look. "Welcome home, babe!"

"Why is it around Ethan's _new_ baseball bat?" Brittany's tapping her foot now, a tell tale sign that she's about to go all Lima Heights like Santana her in high school years.

Santana falters for a second when the blonde bypasses her greeting. She gulps, hoping to word everything correctly and not end up sleeping on the couch tonight, "We needed a mast."

Brittany stares her down fiercely from her position in the doorway and waits for more of an explanation. Her Latina wife mumbles incoherently about pirates and shower heads and curtains, hoping to lessen the damage before her wife gives her the patented Brittany bitch face. It's almost three times worse than Santana's back in high school and the she's probably the only person she's ever used it on. Hot damn, if the kids from school could see her now.

When she doesn't get anymore of an explanation she leaves the room with great haste, but doesn't say a word. Santana stands in the tub with the kids underneath the spray of the nozzle, too intimidated to leave her spot. Everyone seems to be thinking the same because they haven't stepped out of the shower tub since the almost battle.

They stay like that for a minute or so until the door cracks open a little more with Brittany pushing through. She makes a beeline to Bryson and takes the baseball bat from his small hands gingerly then unwinds the shower curtain.

Bryson stares up at her with big eyes, crocodile tears threatening to break past the point of no return at any second, but quiets down in an instant when Brittany leaves two, three, four butterfly kisses across his cheeks and the bridge of his freckled nose.

She folds the cow-patterned curtain in halves then lays down a couple towels to border the shower and mop up the puddles from their adventure. She gives the befuddled group a bemused smile and a wink then makes her way over the marble sink to pick up a white cloth.

"Masts don't have cows on them," Brittany coos to her youngest son and pulls a white pillow cover over the fat end. He stares up at her gleefully with big, wide eyes beneath his soaked, shaggy mop of light brown hair. She bops him gently with her finger on his nose and turns to Santana, "I challenge you to a duel!"

Caid tugs on her mom's now wet loose t-shirt until her blonde hair is level with her daughter's nearly black mane. She leans up to hush a little whisper in her mother's ear, "Mommy! You're a pirate, you have an accent!"

Brittany gives her an impish grin before popping back up to address her enemy, "Captain Lopez! I challenge ye to a duel, ye scallywag! Accept now and face ye doom. Do ye say aye?"

Bryson covers his face up with his little hands, giggling unabashedly at his mom's adopted accent. He likes it when they're like this - playing pirates in the bathroom.

Santana sobers up immediately, "I accept ye challenge, Private Pierce." She holds her hand out expectantly to Bryce for his foam sword. He passes it to her with an appraising look. He's totally rooting for her. Pirates are way cooler than privates. Plus, his mami made him strawberry milk this morning.

With foam sword in hand, the Latina turns to face her opponent with a grave expression. They face off and circle each other in the big bathroom, feet treading and brushing across wet, trodden towels.

Brittany stops all of a sudden, tucking her foam sword into the belt loop of her skinny jeans. Santana gives her a quizzical look before lowering her sword down to her side and ceasing her circling shuffle. The blonde woman approaches her carefully and holds out her hand.

Brittany wiggles her fingers when she isn't met half way yet. She rolls her eyes at Santana across from her, "We have to teach them good sportsmanship! Ethan's going into baseball soon!"

Her wife chuckles a little at the taller woman's antics. She slips her hand into the warm grip, "Good luck."

But before Brittany can mirror the words, a foam sword is slapping her hard across the stomach.

"That's not fair!" Ethan shouts from his spot atop the side of the tub. If it weren't for the circumstances of a heated duel taking place, the couple would be giving him a lashing for it. He's so brash and reckless about things that they couldn't help but groan when he asked to take up sports.

"Cheater, cheater!" Caid yells from her much more sensible sitting spot beside her big brother.

"Go mami, go!" Bryson cheers despite his siblings' looks and shouts of otherwise.

Brittany clutches her side, and falls against the wall to her left. The fight is far from over.

"You wench!"

Santana's eyes widen bigger than the fat end of Ethan's new baseball bat, "Brittany! You can't call me a pirate whore in front of the kids!" Then she realizes that she just said whore in front of her kids. Kind of defeats the purpose. Oops.

Pushing off from the tasteful floral print wallpaper, Brittany pulls her sword from her make shift denim belt loop sheath, "Come at me!"

All attempts at pirate language now aside, Santana grunts in frustration, "You should be dead! I just sliced up where your liver should be!" Which it isn't really there anymore, because you know she_ should _be dead. Santana huffs again.

"Force field, motha sucka."

Santana pauses in her sword wielding. "That's Halo," she barely finishes her sentence in time though because a grey stick of foam smacks her in the left side of her chest just under her armpit. "That's my boob!"

A chorus of cheers and jeers ring out from the other side of the bathroom and Brittany thrusts her right fist up in victory. She really wants to yell out, 'Tit shot!' But she already went a little too far with the whole wench thing and pushed the envelope even farther with an MA game reference.

They're swinging and lunging and twisting and taunting and they aren't even really playing pirates anymore. Pirates don't have force fields after all, but the kids don't need to know that.

They continue the duel anyway because who can really say no to a bunch of cute kids?

"What's wrong, Private? Can't get a swing on me? Suck my d- oomf!"

And because Santana won't stop taunting her.

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><p>One hour, three sleeping kids, and a sprained ankle later, Santana is sitting on the couch with her foot propped up on the cherry wood coffee table and glaring at the TV screen.<p>

"Come on now, Captain Lopez, don't be a sore loser," Brittany teases gently with a sweet, lingering kiss to the tanned woman's cheek.

Santana refuses to answer her, pursing her lips and giving the flat screen a stare down. She's not even watching the infomercial, hell she doesn't even know what it's about. All she can think about is twisting her ankle on a sopping wet towel and the fake sword poking her in the throat when she moved to get up. It only made it fifty times worse when Caid clapped her hands and hooted, "Boom! Kill shot!"

She's not a sore loser, damn it. She just hates losing.

It makes more sense in her head.

"If it's any consolation, you were really hot as a pirate," Brittany murmurs silkily in her ear. She traces the crevices of her ear lobe with the tip of her nose, lips pressing and grazing randomly over spans of clear skin.

"Hmm?" Santana tilts her head over to her wife, but doesn't give her the satisfaction of full eye contact, keeping her eyes on the screen. She's clearly not over the loss yet.

Brittany rolls her eyes to herself, but keeps on with her ministrations. Seducing Santana is pretty easy, but it might have to do with the fact that she's completely and totally in love with the fair-skinned dancer. She's got to keep the act up though if she wants Santana to accept her proposition. Hot sex is a bonus though if she says to what she has to say.

"Your voice got all low and raspy," She flicks her tongue out to press quick, but languid licks down the stretch of her neck, "and it got me so wet seeing you under me."

She's got it now, she's sure of it. There's no way Santana is mad anymore and there's no way she'll say no to what she's about to ask. Besides, Brittany isn't ashamed to admit that pirate Santana would be really fucking hot. She wouldn't mind screaming captain out for a temporary change and it seems like Santana wouldn't either considering the fidgeting she's doing right now.

Santana twists her neck around after nudging Brittany gently off her shoulder. She latches onto the expanse of creamy flesh with her pouty lips, sucking and licking fervently to leave angry red marks. Santana struggles to find her voice, "What do you want?"

Brittany throws her head back, gifting easier access to the bold Latina and letting loose an exhaling moan, "Mmm, baby, you of course." She smiles dazedly at the ceiling as her wife slings a leg across her hips to straddle her.

Now on top, Santana brings her left hand to whip her dark locks out of her face and run long fingers through wild hair with a seductive shake. She brings her head down to the crook of the woman's neck, splaying her dark pink tongue across the strip of flesh. She smirks around the appendage when the woman beneath her inhales sharply before pulling her tongue up along the white, pulsating throat and to her ear.

Brittany's almost enjoying this too much to stop, but she needs an answer before they go at it. There's no turning back after this and she's almost too turned on to care. Almost.

"I need to ask you something."

Santana pauses immediately, her hips lifting up and off of the woman below her. She's getting ready to hop off and make a run for it, but Brittany has her arms wrapped around her small waist in seconds. Santana struggles in the grip, grunting and huffing.

Brittany gives her a pointed look that tells her there's no way she's getting out this hold and she realizes that her wife is right. Brittany's way stronger than her and when she wants something she won't let go until she's got it. It's kind of hot.

Actually, it's really hot.

But that's not keeping Santana from being upset this time. Ceasing struggle, she turns her head away from determined blue eyes to stare at the wall in favor. "What is it?"

"The annual camping trip is in two weeks," Brittany said matter-of-factly, still staring intently at the Latina in her lap.

The struggle instantly resumes. Santana throws her hands down to the other woman's shoulders, pushing off the couch with her knees. "No! No, we're not going. Not when those Fabray bitches are going!"

Brittany sits up straight, "We're going Santana and that's final," She growls in frustration when the struggling, jerky motions continue and shakes the hands off her clothed shoulders, sending the woman flying into her embrace, "I know you really don't like Quinn or Rachel, but we're totally going to kick ass in the camp games this year."

Santana relaxes into her wife's arms, snuggling into her shoulder. "But their brats were so mean to Caid before. Caid's so strong for a little girl, imagine what they'll say to Bryce," She looks her wife in the eye, her own tearing up a little at the though of someone hurting their youngest, "He's so sweet and shy, those kids will rip him up."

Stroking her wife's hair, Brittany takes in everything she's just been told. Last year's trip didn't go so well.

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><p>Caid walked deliberately slow, zoning out the cheering crowd around her. She had the fourth lane, her lucky number – same as her mom's. Glancing up for a second, she saw her mom cradling her little brother in her arms, just three years old and watching her excitedly from his comfy spot.<p>

She wished that was her. She loved sports, but this wasn't really a sport and she definitely didn't want to be out there.

Scanning the crowd at the end of her lane, she saw her mami beaming proudly at her. She had to win this. Everyone said they were completely alike in a sense they were. Same dark hair, nearly the same skin tone, and right now – the absolute obsession with winning.

Caid clutched the plastic spoon between her teeth harder, firmer, hoping to steady the trembling egg sitting snugly in the sloping scoop of it. She took a couple steady steps forward, smiling around the white plastic when the egg barely moved.

She chanced a glance at her opponents in the bordering lanes. The little girl to the right had just dropped her egg. Caid grinned even bigger - the less competition the better.

To the left of her walked Jacob Fabray, the most popular five year old of the whole damn camp. He talked to everyone, he knew everyone. Little girls with their bedazzled denim shorts fell at his feet. Only the coolest boys with the light up sketchers were allowed to hang with him.

And he was losing to her.

Caid kept up her pace with a sly grin, only a good nine steps away from the finish line now.

A couple steps later an eight year old Daniel Fabray screamed from behind the finish line, "You're carrying a dead baby bird, Caid!"

Caid stopped, the spoon slipping from the firm hold.

Santana rushed from behind the finish line, scooping the girl up into her arms. She whispered urgent, worried hushing noises into her daughter's ear, hoping to quell the panic before it got too out of control

The little girl broke into tears, fisting the back of her mami's pretty blouse along with bits of her hair. "It was a _bird, _mami, it was a _bird_!"

The mother cringed as her daughter pulled and jerked her hair filled fists at every emphasized words, rubbing soothing circles with her thumbs into her back. "Shhh, it's not really a bird, honey." She made her way back behind the finish line to her wife, who gave her a sympathetic look in turn.

Brittany cooed into the girl's ear, "Caid, it's not really a baby bird; your mami taught me that a long time ago." She smiled bashfully over at her wife.

A couple feet over, Jacob stood with his mothers, a blue ribbon pinned to his navy blue polo. He tilted his head confusedly, but paid no mind to anyone else when his mother, Rachel, bent down to press a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek and ruffle his dirty blonde hair. Daniel broke through the crowds to meet the Lopez-Pierce's, he stared up at Caid snarkily with a toothy grin, "Ha! You lost! You killed that baby bird _and_ you lost for your mommies! Ohh, you're gonna get in trouble!"

Caid broke down into another fit of tears despite reassurances from both parents that they weren't mad. Sure, they wanted to win, but she and her brothers came first.

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><p>Okay, so the trip wasn't <em>that<em> bad. She wasn't bullied anymore after that, Quinn having kept Daniel on a tight leash after that, but the damage had been done. Granted, it wasn't exactly bullying, Caid was still hurt and in her mothers' eyes, that's all that really mattered.

As soon as they returned home from the trip, Caid quit the local soccer team, opting to stay home with her little brother instead. Santana refused to attend the annual trip after that.

But Brittany didn't want to give them the satisfaction they'd get if they didn't show up.

"We're going or else."

"Caid won't even play soccer anymore! We can't just go back and let that stupid brat run her down again!"

Brittany takes a deep breath, "Santana, I love our kids, but they need some healthy competition. Kids are mean these days, I get that, but you know just as well as I do that she can take any heat they give her," She smiled a little at how brave their little girl was, "She's your daughter after all."

"But what if that little twat says something to her again! Is Caid even okay with this? Or Ethan? You know how much he hates that kid now."

"I've already spoken with both of them. They both want to get back at them," Brittany's face softens at the next words, "Caid really wants to win for you this year."

Santana stuffs her face into the suede couch to hide the touched smile on her face, "Fine, but if that little bitch says anything remotely rude, I'm ripping Quinn's ass up in the relay."

Brittany grins sweetly at her wife, "Awesome, bags are already packed."

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><p>Twenty one pages and my eyes are burning. Hope you guys liked it! I've been meaning to get this up for awhile but never got around to typing it up. Hopefully I'll have the next update in a week or two.<p>

Please review so I know whether or not I should continue this!

Now for some shameless promoting – check out my personal tumblr! It's

Shellysurl . tumblr . com

But without the spaces. Thanks! Please do review! I need some feedback to know if this is worth continuing.

It's a little messy, so I'm looking for a beta if anyone's interested. But I don't really get how to work with a beta because I've never had one…


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